


to be known

by yehetno



Category: ASTRO (Band)
Genre: ? maybe??, Angst, M/M, and i will work the friendships we all need into these stories, big mood ali gatie's it's you, but also self-acceptance, but there's some growth in there, like-- i will force feed you some wholesome friendships because that's i wanna do, so i guess we're dealing with some internalized homophobia or at least a little bit of self-hatred, sometimes u end up being your own worst enemy, ultimately it feels kinda healing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-29
Updated: 2019-11-29
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:54:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21595690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yehetno/pseuds/yehetno
Summary: "I can love you enough for the both of us."Because Jinwoo is a much better person than Myungjun could ever hope to be.
Relationships: Kim Myungjun | MJ & Yoon Sanha, Kim Myungjun | MJ/Park Jinwoo | Jin Jin
Comments: 7
Kudos: 70





	to be known

**Author's Note:**

> [ it's you by ali gatie](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PXGycbkbtW0) and [ surrender by natalie taylor](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5Mrz8t0FCIc) are two songs that very much the Mood.

Myungjun sighs, letting a small puff of steam escape into the air. His eyes track the small cloud until it dissipates into nothingness; on the inhale, cold air invades his lungs.

He glances down at his hands to look at the remnants of a haphazard midnight manicure. Most of it has chipped away from laborious hours in the kitchen and garden, but some of the black lacquer has stubbornly clung to his nails as though to remind him he was almost happy two weeks ago. 

His knees bounce, the heel of his foot falling into an anxious rhythm as his fingers try to destroy the last bits of paint on his fingernails. 

He doesn't want that reminder. Not right now. Maybe not ever.

_(God, he could have stared at Jinwoo's flushed face of concentration for hours.)_

He doesn't realize how upset he truly is until a piping hot tear burns a trail over his cheek. His shoulders sag even further as his body goes numb from sitting on the cold ground for so long. Myungjun cards his fingers through his hair before swatting away the wetness on his cheek. He swallows back his sadness and pulls his feet under him. 

He might have damaged this beyond repair. Could he fix it? Was there a sliver of a possibility of a chance that he could apologize enough? He cannot rewind time and take back the things that he said, but it-- it's eating him alive. He had hoped in the back of his mind that if he kept denying that part of himself for long enough that it might get easier to do. At some point, he was supposed to become so well practiced at lying and in expressing interest in girls that he could switch between being himself and his family's son with ease. He's a fool; of course, it has only gotten harder. Maybe, no, not maybe, living as the person he wants to be has only made him that much more desperate to continue on as a liberated Myungjun.

Yet, when the actual day came to introduce Jinwoo as his...

Myungjun choked. Hard. Choking is a kind way to put it; he self-immolated and burned Jinwoo on the way out.

Jinwoo was good. Jinwoo is good. Myungjun could probably list all of the lovely parts of Jinwoo for hours on end-- his smile, his laugh, his corny puns, his stories that never quite make it to the point, his soft snores.

Myungjun lives with plenty of regrets, but maybe his biggest one so far is being responsible for that look on Jinwoo's face. He hates that Jinwoo held back tears and struggled to find enough strength in his voice to hit back softly. Myungjun did that. He pulled the rug out from under Jinwoo. Jinwoo looked so small and soft-- waiting for an apology that Myungjun's pride and shame couldn't muster at that moment. He nodded bitterly and sniffled and walked away with a pitiful silhouette.

His chest aches; does he deserve the catharsis of crying? He doesn't want to live in his skin right now, but his choices have put him out in the cold, saddled with an aching pain, thinking about what should have been if he was a braver person. For the time being, he feels like his suffering is justified; a small self-punishment for not being a good enough or strong enough person to hold onto a person he loves. Even worse than just letting go of Jinwoo, he pushed him away, lashing out in a senseless angry panic.

The sound of footsteps behind him prompts Myungjun to glance over his shoulder. With a blanket draped over his forearm and a cup of cocoa in hand, Sanha approaches, carefully walking on the parts of the deck that are free of snow. Wordlessly, Sanha places the mug into Myungjun's frigid hands and takes a seat right next to him.

Sanha has changed. He used to be such a pipsqueak, even after his growth spurt he was too much limb and not enough coordination to change his persona. Now, Sanha has filled out his frame and lived through several cycles of rebellious hair colors. He's a little gruffer, more careful with his words, has better emotional intuition, remaining as kind as ever.

Sanha unfolds the blanket and spreads it over their legs.

"I added extra marshmallows for you," Sanha says quietly, looking at the cocoa in Myungjun's hands.

"Thank you."

Sanha doesn't let the air remain dead for long. "I know you're going through something right now and that you don't want to talk about it, but can I tell you something?"

Myungjun raises his eyes to meet Sanha's. They seem almost lost, unsure, as though they belong to a much different and younger version of Sanha. Myungjun nods.

With a shaky breath, Sanha starts, "I'm seeing someone." 

The pause after that statement speaks volumes to Myungjun's soul; he watches Sanha's eyes slide shut. "We met a few months ago, and I have been very happy to meet someone who shares the same passions and interests as me. He--"

A tear slips out of the corner of Sanha's eye. Myungjun's heart cracks in half as Sanha winces. Sanha must have practiced this so many times in the mirror-- Myungjun has done it himself a thousand times. Myungjun can feel his own tears dripping off his chin.

Sanha clears his throat, "Myungjun, you are a very important person to me, and as my honorary older brother, I would love for you to meet my boyfriend."

Myungjun sets his untouched cocoa down and wraps his arms around Sanha tightly. The tension in Sanha's body melts; he crumples into the hug, planting his wet face on Myungjun's shoulder. Myungjun pats his back gently, "This must have been weighing down on your soul for a long time."

Sanha nods, sniffling.

"I'm glad you told me. It's not healthy for you to carry it alone." Myungjun tightens his grip, "Whenever you're ready for me to meet him, I'll be there because I love you."

Myungjun and Sanha sit there for a while, holding each other together for the moment. The cocoa becomes cold.

It tumbles past Myungjun lips, the truth; it jumps out of his mouth because he's tired of isolating himself. His own advice about not carrying it alone makes him purge the truth, "I was dating someone. He wanted to come home with me."

Sanha pulls away from Myungjun's embrace to look him in the eyes. There isn't much surprise behind his eyes; Myungjun can see his own sadness reflected in his friend's gaze. That's a path Sanha almost went down, Myungjun can tell.

"I wasn't ready to be me in front of my parents, so I pushed him away." Myungjun frowns, "I liked who I was with him."

"Apologize," Sanha advises with a soft tone.

Myungjun leans over to rest his head on Sanha's shoulder, "I will. I just need to brace myself for what comes after. When I apologize, there won't be a reason for us to talk anymore."

"Are you going to tell your parents?"

Myungjun nods, "Stay out here. I might come out crying."

Sanha whispers an okay, and Myungjun pushes himself up to his feet. He has ten feet to the door-- ten steps to brace himself for whatever happens, be it bad, good, or weird. He moves the sliding door out of his way and lets the warmth of his childhood home overtake him. He had his first kiss on that couch and promptly found himself confused as to why it lacked a certain charm. It took him until his third kiss with a senior in choir to nail down what he was looking for.

He wanders into the kitchen. His father is sweeping the floor. His mother is washing the dishes, pink rubber gloves working furtively to brush the gunk out of her favorite pan. She smiles at him as he picks up a dish towel and starts drying off their dishware. 

"What's weighing on your heart, sunshine?" She asks, instinctively knowing Myungjun is ready to share about his woes.

"My boyfriend broke up with me," he whispers.

His mom drops the pan into the soiled water. The sound of the broom scraping against the floor halts. His mother turns to look at Myungjun, but he can't meet her eyes yet. He doesn't want to know if they're regarding him differently, the way that his nightmares promise they will.

"Oh honey," she says, stripping her gloves off. She takes his face in her hands; she pulls his head down and rises to kiss his forehead. His father comes to his side and claps a hand on his back. They stand in an apprehensive silence for a moment.

A tightness that has lived in Myungjun's chest for as long as he can remember, releases its hold slightly.

"I love you."

"I'm sorry it took me so long to tell you."

His mother shakes her head, "You took the time you needed. That's all we can ask."

His father pulls him into a warm embrace, "You're doing just fine, kiddo."

For the first time in a long time, Myungjun has a restful night's sleep in his parents' house.

//

_Jinwoo sways with a smile on his face as he poorly serenades with the song on the radio, arms wrapped his neck. Blissful, care-free, confident, Jinwoo draws Myungjun into a quiet, wonky dance in the dining room. Jinwoo's voice is rough and sweet and sincere._

_Myungjun kisses Jinwoo mid-lyric, tasting the bitter notes of wine left in Jinwoo's mouth. Jinwoo pulls him so close that there's hardly any space left between them, hands fisting Myungjun's thin shirt._

_"Sleep over," Jinwoo breathes out when they come up for air._

_"Like middle-schoolers?"_

_"I'll paint your nails, we'll have a pillow fight, get even more wasted on cheap booze as an excuse to make out during spin the bottle. It'll be fun, trust me," Jinwoo whispers, scrunching up his nose before pecking Myungjun's lips again. "Sleep. Over."_

//

He stands in front of a very familiar door with a heart in one hand and his mother's food in another. She had just kinda shoved into his hands and urged him to get it to Jinwoo when he left their house this morning. 

The cool metal is painted off-white with the unit number drilled onto the door with four separate fixtures in a brushed brass to match the handle. The unit camera sits in a case bolted to the door frame. Myungjun wonders if Jinwoo's passcode is the same. He hopes Jinwoo hasn't changed it; maybe that might mean that there's room left in his heart to forgive Myungjun. 

He places a finger against the doorbell, not quite ready to press it. Five days. How has five lonely days warped Jinwoo's feelings? How much could his harsh words and acidic expression damaged Jinwoo's heart? Are there any feelings left inside for him to gently caress and to whom he can speak his deepest healing truth?

Does he have it in him to ask for a second chance? Is he that bold?

He firmly presses the doorbell. It rings once.

Then twice.

Dread fills Myungjun heart as it rings for a third and fourth time. Jinwoo isn't home. He exhales slowly; of course, he isn't there. Saturdays are a big time for Jinwoo to go out and catch up with friends, and--

Part of the way through the fifth and last ring through, the intercom scratches to life with a familiar voice, "Go away."

Moon Bin.

"I need to talk to Jinwoo, Bin," Myungjun replies softly. 

A curt reply, "No."

"I know he's home if you're in his house."

"Your request to converse with the owner has been denied. Go away or I'm calling security."

Myungjun leans forward and rests his forehead against the door. Jinwoo is on the other side somewhere.

"Please?"

"No."

"I love you, Jinwoo," Myungjun starts, but he gets cut off.

His own words echo over the intercom, " _That's not good enough_." 

Myungjun deserves that. It hurts to hear. It hurt to say it the first time; he can't imagine how it must have stabbed through Jinwoo's soul to hear it in such a nonchalant tone, so dismissive, as though nothing Jinwoo could ever do would be enough for Myungjun to pluck up the courage to be out.

"I didn't mean that," he says weakly.

"Yes, you did," Moon Bin spits out. Bin is such a good friend. Myungjun cannot blame him; he admires that he is looking out for Jinwoo and ending it with the kind of strength Jinwoo might not have at the moment. 

"If this is how it's ending, can I hear Jinwoo say goodbye one last time?" Tears begin to blur his vision. He didn't want to be right about ruining his happiness all on his own, but he could feel it in his bones.

Bin sighs, replying bluntly, "You already ended it."

He nods and pushes the tears out of his eyes, standing upright, "Okay. I'm sorry. That's-- that's what I came to say. I'm sorry, I love you, forgive me, I'm dumb. That-- that was it." His voice breaks at some point. It doesn't matter where, but a fresh wave of sadness overcomes him.

Myungjun presses a kiss against his fingertips and touches it against the door. He leaves the food his mother made for Jinwoo at the door. "My mom made this for you," he mumbles, nowhere near loud enough for the microphone to pick it up.

He walks away slowly. He doesn't even have a sliver of hope that Jinwoo might burst out of his apartment and tackle him, shower him with kisses, and make up. No. A desperate hopeless grows inside him; it makes his feet feel like they're filled with lead. One step at a time is almost too much to ask.

He has to lean against the wall of the elevator to remain upright. When he gets home, he will collapse onto his bed and sob. He just needs to hold it together until then.

Sanha texts him.

_ysh | 21:54 | how did it go?_

Myungjun stares that message for a long time, sitting behind the wheel of his car in a desolate parking garage.

_kmj | 22:04 | i wouldn't forgive me either. it's ok. i'm ok._

_kmj | 22:05 | that's a lie. i'm not ok._

_kmj | 22:05 | don't know when i'll be ok._

It takes another ten minutes for Myungjun to pull out of the garage and drive home.

He doesn't remember the rest-- getting home, getting into comfy clothes, crawling into bed, sobbing until his pillow is soaked-- none of it.

//

It's the pounding on his front door that wakes him up. The sun is beaming through his open window. He has a thunderous headache, a puffy face, and a rough throat. Someone is beating down his door like they're worried he's dead.

He rolls over to check his phone. It is Sunday afternoon. He has two missed calls from Sanha.

Painstakingly, Myungjun hobbles up to his feet. Sanha must have a low worry threshold. He will have to apologize for freaking Sanha out. He stumbles through his messily unpacked bag and opens the door without checking who's there. He just needs the pounding to stop.

His eyes aren't open, so it comes as a surprise when a body topples onto him, leaving both him and the incessant knocker sprawled out over his shoes.

"Ow," he groans softly, blinking his eyes open to Jinwoo?

"Sorry," Jinwoo mutters, pulling himself off of Myungjun, pushing shoes out of the way so he can sit down and shut the front door. Myungjun notices a piece of pale pink stationery in his hand.

Myungjun pulls himself into a sitting position. Jinwoo looks rough. He did that. His heart wilts. "Hi."

Jinwoo smooths out the stationery in his hand. He doesn't acknowledge Myungjun's greeting. He seems to be rereading whatever is written on the paper. "Who wrote this?" Jinwoo asks, finally looking up to Myungjun.

Myungjun takes the paper and immediately recognizes the handwriting.

_To the man my son loves--_

_I hope this food fills your stomach with as much love as you've filled my son's heart.  
He has been empty in your absence; please take good care until we can meet._

Myungjun slumps against the wall.

Jinwoo waits patiently with curious and guarded eyes.

Myungjun sniffles, "My dad." He hands it back to Jinwoo and pulls himself up to his feet.

"You told your dad about me?"

"And my mom," he softly says as he walks to the kitchen to get a glass of water. "And Sanha. So pretty much everyone who matters."

He takes down most of the water in one go. He stands at the sink, refilling the cup when Jinwoo's strong arms lock around his torso. "That must have been scary," Jinwoo whispers.

"Yeah."

A forehead rests on the base of his neck. A soft voice asks, "Are you okay?"

"Yes. Thank you for asking." Myungjun's fingers twitch, desperate to trace patterns on Jinwoo's hands and pull him closer.

A soft kiss against the back of his neck. Myungjun's eyes slide shut. The tears of relief that couldn't come in front of his parents splatter onto Jinwoo's arms. The rest of the tension strangling his heart releases, and Myungjun's knees give out. He finally lets go of the breath he'd been holding for years. Jinwoo gets him to the ground slowly. They sit on the floor of his kitchen for a while. Jinwoo holds him and gently rubs his back, pressing kisses against his face every so often, wiping away any tears that come with a feather touch.

"I'm proud of you," Jinwoo whispers at some point.

"Why?" Myungjun's voice cracks. He doesn't like himself right now, and Jinwoo's compassion knows no end. Here he is comforting some guy that broke his heart.

He exhales softly; Myungjun can hear the smile on his lips as Jinwoo rocks him back and forth, "You did something brave. Being known is a scary thing."

Myungjun pulls away from Jinwoo's warmth and backs up against his cabinets. He clears his throat, "Is that all you wanted? To know who wrote the letter?"

"No," Jinwoo replies softly. He picks up Myungjun's hands, "I wanted you to know that--" He hesitates, taking a deep breath, "I wanted you to know that I love you and that I can love you enough for the both of us until you love who you are all on your own."

Jinwoo smiles softly at Myungjun.

"I love you."

Jinwoo sniffles and nods, "I know."

He leads forward and kisses Myungjun softly on the mouth. Once. Twice. Many more times.

**Author's Note:**

> \\(^.^)/ get in here for a hug. like the one that everyone in this fic needs. 
> 
> the grammarly plugin i use went from sad to optimistic to worried. a) it's been so long since i've written that i did not know they added a tone detector, b) it also detected undertones of dissatisfaction.  
> also got flagged for tautology.
> 
> you can comment, leave a kudos, or bookmark it. whatever you fancy.  
> [ bonus song ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AE005nZeF-A)  
> [ my tumblr](https://yehetno.tumblr.com/) if you want it?


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